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She could not let go of the tiger's tail. She drove herself. Then last spring one of suburban Washington's own marvels, University of Maryland Basketball Star Len Bias, was found dead of an overdose. In any other city the tragedy might have been buried by larger events. This one belonged to Congress, to the Washington Post, to the lobbyists and lawyers and media of the capital. Suddenly the nation's leaders had to look. Nancy Reagan stood there with her banner high, meticulous in her Bill Blass gown, defying all the laws of political gravity. She welcomed the horde into her caravan, but not without some admonitions. "I don't think throwing a lot of money into this problem is going to solve it. It's going to be solved by people standing up and taking a position that this is wrong and they won't put up with it. It's morally wrong."
Something deep inside Nancy Reagan's soul is still coiled. "I've said this to the kids: You only make this trip once. You'd better make it try to count, and if you're in a position, as we are now, then use it." Nancy's platoon is now an army, and it is marching.